I Wither Not As A Flower. Poem by Ravi Panamanna

In kind rememberance of poets and writers of all times.
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I wither not as a flower
I am a writer.
I fade not as the evening sun
I have a blessed pen.

I am the nightingale of the forest
Singing some verses of light.
I am a monk from the East
With a heart on spiritual quest.

Age cannot wither me
Nor custom stale my infinite variety.
I flow into a timeless legion
Embrcing humanity as a flying pigeon.

15/02/1993